As your shadow crosses mine
by Kmacksinclair
Summary: A collection of drabbles exploring the relationship that forms when you combine an injured army Doctor and a highly functioning sociopath.
1. The Shakespearean Exception

_Two households, both alike in dignity,_

_In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,_

_From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,_

_Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean._

_From forth the fatal loins of these two foes_

_A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life;_

_Whose misadventur'd piteous overthrows_

_Doth with their death bury their parents' strife._

Sherlock Holmes was not a fan of fiction. He found it pointless to spend time reading about fictional people in fictional situations when he could be using his time to learn about the latest discoveries in blood testing.

However, he did have one exception. Sherlock would never admit this, even under extreme torture, but in the third drawer down in his dressed, hidden under socks and old bloody bandages, disguised by a cover from Darwin's Theory of Evolution lay a copy of the only piece of fiction Sherlock Holmes owned: Romeo and Juliette by William Shakespeare.

Let's make this clear: Sherlock Holmes was not a romantic. And he found certain points of the plot utterly ridiculous and disliked more than one of the character's choices.

He did however admire how within the first few lines of the text the reader had already been clearly told that the two main characters would certainly die, however by the end of the play even Sherlock himself had a small hope that perhaps the first few lines would not be true and they would live happily ever after.

They didn't, _obviously_, but while Sherlock Holmes does not believe in fate or luck, he does believe in the past mirroring the future.

His first word was neither Mummy nor Daddy, but instead Mycroft. While he hates to admit it, this seems appropriate.

The first deduction he made about Greg Lestrade was that he was an extremely loyal man. After all, how could any other type of man stay with his wife when she was so clearly cheating on him?

The first word he ever said to John Hamish Watson was 'Thanks'. And even now Sherlock cannot find the words to express how utterly thankful he is that the Doctor came into his life.


	2. The Breathing Game

Breathing has always been considered a personal nuisance by Sherlock Holmes. Obviously, he understood the biological need for it. Even so, he did find he utterly boring.

As a child he had invented a game to make it more interesting. Whenever Mycroft was out, or his Mother and Father were fighting, or the attendants just couldn't be bothered to listen to his deductions about their underwear anymore, he would draw himself a bath, plunge his entire body beneath the shimmering surface of the water, and wait for as long as he could without bursting at the seams.

Throughout the years Sherlock Holmes became rather good at this game. He remembered a particularly successful game in his early twenties in which he waited so long he passed out.

Needless to say, the Doctors at St. Bart's hospital were rather unable to wrap their heads around the idea of this 'game'. Mycroft Holmes, on the other hand, understood entirely. Not that he was too happy about it, mind you. He even took it apon himself to ban the game entirely, even though he was quite aware Sherlock would not stop something that cured his boredom.

The 'game' however had disappeared almost entirely from Sherlock's life after Doctor Watson had arrived.

_Almost _entirely.

Four hours and twenty seven minutes after Sherlock had revealed to John that he was indeed alive Sherlock found himself lying on the couch in 221b Baker Street utterly bored. While he had imagined John may be a little confused over his non-death, Sherlock had not expected the utter rage which the Doctor had demonstrated.

He had gone to Sarah's, Sherlock decided. They were engaged, after all. He was sure there was some sort of social contract within the agreement of marriage in which if one party's dead best friend turns out not to be actually dead said party was entitled to 'vent'.

Bored, without a gun and accepting that it was unlikely John would be back for a while; Sherlock decided it was time for a 'game'. He drew himself a bath, immersed himself beneath the shimmering surface of the water and waited.

Thirteen minutes later and John Watson returned to Baker Street to find a post it note on his laptop simply stating 'Sorry' and an unconscious Sherlock Holmes in the bathtub.

Eleven hours later and Sherlock Holmes woke in a hospital bed with a silver handcuff attached to his right wrist and a tired looking John Watson attached to his left.

Once John had finished shouting, the nurses had finished checking and Sherlock had finished explaining, John took a long, deep breath.

'Sherlock Holmes . For whatever fucked up reason you seem to be unable to grasp the concept of wanting to breathe. I'm not angry at you for that. What I'm pissed at is the fact that you are so self-involved you cannot seem to be able to grasp the fact that while you would not particularly care if you stopped breathing, other people do care. I care. The idea of you not breathing makes me… not want to breathe. And I am rather fond of the practice myself. But I can forgive you for everything as long as you promise me two things. One, you will never disappear for three years without letting me know you're okay, _ever_ again. And two you will promise to never play that game ever, _ever_ again. Deal?'

Sherlock Holmes does not like making promises.

'I promise.'

They both breathe.


End file.
